


Gave You All He Could

by lol-phan-af (lol_phan_af)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, First Dates, First Meetings, Flashbacks, M/M, Moving In Together, Suicide, Unrequited Love, its lams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11946909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lol_phan_af/pseuds/lol-phan-af
Summary: He blinked, glanced down at the pavement, how close he was to the banister. Cars sped by, would they even stop?"I know that," Thomas said, and James took his hand away. He was so cold. It was always so cold without Alex around."Do you want me to go and get them? I'd be back in five minutes."He shook his head. "No. I'll figure it out. I have to sleep at some point, even if I have to pass out to do it.""Thomas.""I won't take sleeping pills."





	Gave You All He Could

**Author's Note:**

> !! heed the warnings please !! there are two suicides in this and it's an incredibly upsetting story!! please please please be safe!!

The soft tapping of the window on the glass, coloring the city sky in the same shade of bleak gray, painting the sidewalks with drops of multicolored umbrellas over the heads of people rushing to be somewhere else. Boots and dress shoes and thin heels slapping and clicking against the wet pavement, the rhythm of daily life, the steps of everyone trying to conquer the world in their own way.   
  
Thomas stared as everybody passed. A woman on her phone, someone rushing by with a sketchbook, a man being dragged by five small dogs,their wet fur making them look like small meat loaves. Someone ran into a small child and they both went tumbling to the ground, spreadsheets and coloring pages flying everywhere. James chuckled across from him but Thomas couldn't bring himself to join in.   
  
Nothing seemed to make sense since Alex, nothing made sense before him. His whole life was laid out in front of him since the day he was born, and he went with the motions like he was an actor in a play, never did anything he wasn't supposed to, played music but never wrote his own, said what he thought he should and not what he felt. Now, he did the same, smiled when people apologized and listened to their stories with Alex like he cared about anything they had to say.   
  
James was no different.   
  
He wasn't here because he wanted to be, if Thomas had it his way he'd still be in bed drinking whatever he still had in his barren fridge and praying to fall asleep. He couldn't sleep anymore. He tried, spent entire days in bed with his eyes closed, took every fancy drink and tea known to man to try and get him to drift off, but it never worked. There were no sleeping pills in their house, not anymore, and Thomas refused to buy more of them, no matter how many people suggested it.   
  
"It would help," James whispered, gentle hand placed on his shoulder.   
  
Thomas looked into the apartment across his, a couple dancing with one another while something cooked on the stove. He blinked, glanced down at the pavement, how close he was to the banister. Cars sped by, would they even stop?   
  
"I know that," Thomas said, and James took his hand away. He was so cold. It was always so cold without Alex around.   
  
"Do you want me to go and get them? I'd be back in five minutes."   
  
He shook his head. "No. I'll figure it out. I have to sleep at some point, even if I have to pass out to do it."   
  
"Thomas."   
  
"I won't take sleeping pills," he insisted.   
  
"Okay," James relented, nodding. "Alright. I have to go, but stay safe, okay? Don't, don't do anything stupid."   
  
Thomas flinched. He knew what James meant. In his absence, as if Thomas needed his company now, Thomas wasn't allowed to kill himself. He wasn't allowed to follow in Alexander's influence, he wasn't _allowed_ to die. He was allowed to eat, but he didn't, and sleep, which he didn't. He was allowed to take a shower and moisturize his hair, but the last time he did anything that resembled humanity, Alex was with him, waiting in their bed for him to get out of the bathroom with the silk cap he found so ridiculous and so _so_ cute so that they could sleep.   
  
It was almost two weeks ago, but it felt like an eternity. Every second without Alex felt like an eternity.   
  
"How're you holding up?" James asked, and Thomas snapped back. Right, they were in a coffee shop. It was raining. People walked by and a child was crying over ruined coloring pages, to his mother who held him in her arms and offered to buy him a new book altogether.   
  
"I've been better," Thomas muttered, sipping from his mug. It felt warm in his chest, but the heat disappeared quick, left him wanting more. He wanted to feel something again.   
  
"You know, the offer to move in with me is still on the table," James reminded, and Thomas sighed.   
  
"I _know_ it is, James, that's why I haven't brought it up." He fiddled with the spoon on the saucer they gave him to put his mug on.   
  
"I'm just trying to help," James said, and Thomas was sure it didn't mean to come out like it did, but every drop of malice packed into his words hit Thomas like a bullet.   
  
Thomas sighed. "Moving out of our, my, _the_ apartment won't make missing him easier. Sleeping won't make missing him easier. Nothing you have suggested will make anything easier, and I know you're _just trying to help_ and that I should be grateful for that, but fucking hell, can't you let me grieve at _all_ ? Why do I already have to start trying to get better?" He yelled, saw how James flinched, but he didn't care. He was numb, felt his heart start to race.   
  
"Thomas, I'm-"   
  
"Save it. You don't understand what it's like to lose the person you love, I get it." He chuckled. "No, I wish _you_ got it, then we wouldn't be having this stupid fucking conversation."   
  
With that he left, caught James' deflated face as he slumped back in his chair.   
  
Maybe James would leave him alone, let him fucking mourn Alex in peace before four million messages from every single one of their friends asked him what happened with him and James, and Thomas would have to turn his phone off again.   
  
He went to the cemetery, like he always did after he got into arguments with James or Burr or Eliza, anyone who knew Alex and wanted to make sure they didn't have to lose another one of their friends before they were ready. Always before _they_ were ready.   
  
"Hey," Thomas choked. God, he sounded so stupid already. "Uh, I got into another argument with James, even though it wasn't really an argument because he didn't, really, say anything. I yelled at him, I never used to do that before I met you, not at James, anyway. You turned my world upside down when we got together, and now that you're gone, you're still changing things."   
  
A ballroom, champagne and laughing among people he didn't like. Marble floors and men dancing with women they wouldn't pay enough to spend morning with, chandeliers and James telling him they only have to stay for two more hours. Food common to him but still too expensive, suits that gleamed in the light and Thomas inspecting the way men moved and spoke as a cocktail of emotions churned in his stomach.   
  
He wasn't there twenty minutes when he spotted Alex come in, and Thomas already knew who he was. Hired by Washington along with a few other younger colleagues, younger than anyone else on his staff, trying to get a youthful aspect on his campaign to reach more people. They worked beyond their years, though, and while the rest of the world saw them as kids, Thomas saw them for what they were. Professionals.   
  
All plans of networking flew out the window once he came in, deep red suit, eyes as dark as the night sky, hair pulled back in a ponytail at the crown of his head. He scanned everyone in the room, tearing them apart while they stood unaware, oblivious to the fact that someone they considered below them was collecting everything he needed to surpass them before they knew it, before they even took the time to consider that they're being upstaged.   
  
Alexander's warm brown eyes felt like ice to Thomas' skin as he shot daggers at him. He felt starstruck, couldn't manage much but a cheesy smile and a prayer to god to just fucking kill him now. Alex grinned, tried to hide it, narrowed his eyes a little before moving on. Thomas shook like a leaf. If he wasn't so anxious about what he just gave away in a look, he'd use what little flirting ability he had to try and make any sort of impression.   
  
They ended up meeting for real in the bathroom of the same party, where Thomas hid to try and fend off the impending panic he felt rise up in his chest like acid. He had a job to do, and while he wasn't succeeding thus far, he felt that if this didn't happen, he could at least try.   
  
He stared at his own reflection in the mirror, trying to focus on his own reflection instead of the wobbling in his legs, the tremor running through his right arm like an earthquake muffled under muscle and skin. His hands gripping the edge of the sink, which was like every cinematic sink where the young rich boy goes to, like, fucking do cocaine or whatever, Thomas didn't know. He didn't need to know, he needed something to distract him.   
  
That was when Alex stepped in, shoes echoing on the walls in a satisfying way, putting Thomas' soul a tad bit at ease. His hair came undone at the front, baby hairs sticking up in every direction, forehead gleaming with sweat in the light. Thomas watched him dancing all night, knew why he was in such a state of disarray.   
  
"Oh, you," he grinned, voice like honey and butterscotch. "I thought I'd see you again."   
  
Thomas laughed, exhausted and sweaty. "Did you see me a first time?"   
  
Alex winked, took his hair out and let it fall to his shoulders, and Thomas couldn't do much else but stare. Even in fluorescent lighting, he was terrifying in a beautiful way, held things in his eyes and the way he carried himself that Thomas would never understand, _could_ never understand.   
  
"Thomas Jefferson, isn't it?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"The son of Peter Jefferson?"   
  
"One of the few," Thomas replied, and Alex nodded once.   
  
"Yeah, Washington talks about him sometimes, I did my own research. Sorry, by the way, for your loss."   
  
He chuckled. "It was a long time ago, and he was an ass, you really don't owe me anything."   
  
Alex grinned and Thomas' heart picked up in a different way than before. Where panic once settled, the feeling of quiet endearment settled in, among all of the fatigue and dread for when he had to go back out of the horribly lit bathroom he enclosed himself in.   
  
"Fair enough," Alex whispered. "I'm Alexander, by the way. Alexander Hamilton."   
  
"Nice to meet you." Thomas reached out his hand, praying to god it wasn't as clammy as he felt. Alex shook it, didn't seem to mind that he was shaking.   
  
"And you." Alex smiled as he tied his hair up again, smoothing out the bumps before rejoining the party, leaving Thomas with his heart pounding and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.   
  
There was once a time in Thomas' life where cab rides meant Alex's hand gripping his in the middle seat talking about whatever he wanted, and Thomas staring outside at the city, listening. Alex's voice washed over him like caramel and and cake frosting, sweet and Thomas loved it. He could listen to Alex talk about anything for hours, and he did, many times.   
  
Now, as he pressed his forehead to the window and his eyes blinked shut, his hand grasped at the material of the middle seat, with nobody on the other side to grab back. Silence hung over them like a dead man as rain beat against the exterior of the car, of every other car and bus passing them. The sound blared in Thomas' ears controlling him, shrinking him into nothingness as he became infinitely small in comparison to the city around him.   
  
Thomas shook with every breath as he stood hundreds of feet above most of the city, watched as people passed like ants on a sidewalk, racing towards dropped breadcrumbs. Alex stood next to him, their fingers intertwined, staring down at the world like he was to devour it whole. If this was his idea of a first date, Thomas worried what the rest of them would be like. That was, of course, if this one went decent.   
  
"This is terrifying," he said, and Alex laughed under his breath. Above the whole city, in a room full of people, and he still managed to be the most stunning thing in sight.   
  
"I think it's inspiring. The whole world at your feet, I want to take a piece for myself."   
  
"Why don't you?"   
  
Alex smiled like a shark, eyes bright and hungry for _something_ . "Who says I'm not trying?"   
  
That night, Alex pressed Thomas against his front door and kissed him like his life depended on it. His mouth tasted like strawberry cheesecake but it felt like a wildfire, burning the forest of his mind, smoke curling in the pit of his stomach as he leaned down, clouding his mind and suffocating him. It felt like a health hazard, kissing Alex, like it could kill him every second he decided to keep their lips connected.   
  
"Goodnight, Thomas." Alex kissed him quick again before leaving, smirk painted across his face as strutted away.   
  
Thomas watched him go, lips tingling like touching the static on an old television screen, hands buzzing. He felt like the earth was vibrating under his feet at Alex laughed in the distance, swinging Thomas' tie in his hands. Thomas brought his hand to his neck, only now realizing that the strip of silk he tied around his neck before he left was gone, but he wasn't going to ask for it back, not sure he'd be able to form the words anyway.   
  
The creak of wooden stairs, passing each gray painted apartment door, each hiding a world of people Thomas would likely never know, living lives Thomas would never understand.  He heard a woman screaming at what seemed to be a movie. _Pretty Woman_ , his mind supplied, then kept walking, listening as children laughed in one room and someone played music in the next one, metal bowls clanging together before someone yelped, followed by more clanging that became further out of reach as Thomas passed.   
  
Eliza sat on the couch in the living room when Thomas walked in the apartment, leafing through one of Alex's books that he read a thousand times. She squinted at the pages, trying to see what was actually printed among Alex's dozens of notes. Thomas grinned, knew she wouldn't be able to, he'd tried.   
  
"Hi, Thomas," she mumbled, and he knew what she was doing.   
  
"James called you, didn't he?" He threw his keys down on the end table by the couch, taking off his jacket.   
  
"He might've. Said you got in a fight with him."   
  
"A fight requires an argument. I yelled at him."   
  
"That's not like you," she pointed out, as if Thomas didn't fucking _know_ that. "What's wrong?"   
  
He stared at her for a minute, looking around the empty apartment, dim from the rain outside, and wondered if she actually asked him that. She didn't stop to set her book down, look at him with pitying eyes and say that she already knew, just kept peering at the book, maybe not realizing what words she said.   
  
"What's wrong is my boyfriend is dead, Eliza, and unless you have any way to get him back, I'm stuck with dealing with it," he snapped, going to their room, _his room_ , and locking the door behind him. Somebody, maybe Eliza, maybe not, would break in later, but he didn't care. He just wanted to sleep, something he didn't have the ability to do anymore, which was great.   
  
Everything was great.   
  
"Do you ever drop the flirty exterior?" Thomas asked. "Like, don't get me wrong it's fun, but I have to ask."   
  
Thomas planned their second date, and after going to the only restaurant that Alex would agree to, they walked in Thomas' favorite park, trying to find the ice cream cart that he loved, but was never in the same place twice. The sun dipped lower in the sky as the two of them tried to find it   
  
Alex smiled. "Of course I do, you think it's easy pretending to be _cool?_ I'm literally the worst person on the planet, but you aren't, so being, y'know, a _person_ is the way I try and deal with the fact that you are, indeed, way out my league."   
  
"Me? Out of your league? Alex, I'm currently unemployed, living off of my inheritance and trying _so hard_ to get you to like me. What part of you thinks that I'm out of your league when you're miles ahead of where I am as a person?"   
  
Alex didn't answer, stopped and pulled Thomas off the path so any people walking past them wouldn't have to run into them to walk by. He stumbled, thought for a moment that Alex was _really strong_ considering he was so small, before his lips crashed into Alex's like waves onto shore, a force of nature. The hand Alex wasn't holding stuttered before coming up to cradle the back of his head, heart skipping a beat as Alex laughed against his lips.   
  
"I'm sorry for who you're about to meet," he told him, then ran back along the path, dragging Thomas along, heading toward the ice cream truck now in sight.   
  
Alex was different after that, softer around his edges, brighter than the sun. He was more of a real person, and Thomas loved knowing him, loved getting to know him. He was the love of Thomas' life, and the fact that he is gone, and that Thomas has to come to the terms with never seeing him again, is a pain as great as death.   
  
Thomas didn't know why it shocked him so much, but the realization that he was in love with Alex hit him like a bus. It'd been four months since they started dating, and the feeling of loving him was the same thing he'd _been_ feeling for over half of that time, but as the words appeared in his head, it was like a cosmic collision was happening right in front of him.   
  
"I love you," Thomas blurted, and Alex dropped the pot of pasta he was draining with a loud clang. If it weren't for the strainer basket placed in the sink, hovering above the bottom, their dinner would've been ruined. Thomas decided it didn't matter, but his tomato sauce did turn out perfect, it would be a shame to waste it.   
  
"Fuck, I'm sorry!" Alex apologized, pulling the pot out of the stainer, oven mitts still on, and set it on the counter next to the sink, barely making it onto the pot holder. "Fuck."   
  
"I love you," he repeated, and Alex turned to look up at him, eyes wide.   
  
"I-"   
  
"You don't have to say it back."   
  
"I love you too," he breathed before Thomas finished his sentence. "I love you, I love you, I love y-"   
  
Thomas kissed him, pressing him up against the counter, feeling the steam rising up from the noodles on his hands, feeling even more heat as Alex slid his leg in between Thomas', and that's when he pulled away.  
  
"Dinner first, everything else later."  
  
Alex kissed him quick again, beaming. "I love you."   
  
"I love you too." Thomas kissed his forehead and Alex shuffled to turn back towards the sink, jiggling the pasta in the strainer before putting it back in the pot. Thomas kissed the back of his neck, laughing when Alex nudged him.             
  
He woke up to John sitting on the edge of his bed, and for a moment Thomas couldn't even think about him because he just slept for the first time since a four days after Alex died, and the first time he fell asleep sober. He wanted to kick him off the bed, leave him bruising on the ground and roll over, pass right the fuck out again.   
  
The breath caught in his throat as he stood in Alex's bedroom, listening to John and Alex's conversation in the kitchen. The chill of the room without Alex in it, his shirt lying on the floor in front of him, making him painfully aware of the goosebumps covering his skin, half from the cold, half from the fear. The cold wind beating on the windows, rattling, swaying the curtains from the crack that never quite closed.   
  
"Is he here?" John asked, voice low. Thomas sighed.   
  
John and Alex were best friends, and Thomas had no problem with it, he only wished John wouldn't hate him with a passion for _no reason_ . They'd only spoken to each other a handful of times, and each one started with John scowling at him and Thomas trying to make him like him, and ending with a roll of John's eyes as he stomped away. Alex summed it up to him being a protective friend, but Thomas knew the real reason.   
  
"Why do you need to know?"   
  
John sighed, Thomas _felt_ his eye roll. "He _is_ here."   
  
"Well, yeah. He's my boyfriend, John, I like spending time with him. I love him."   
  
"You've only been dating six months," John grumbled, and Thomas pressed his ear closer to the wall.   
  
"Lafayette told Hercules they loved him on their second date, and now they're engaged," Alex pointed out and John exhaled so violently that Thomas thought he was going to punch something. The wall, maybe, and Thomas would see as his knuckles busted through inches in front of his face.   
  
"You and him aren't that serious though!"   
  
Silence fell in the kitchen, and Thomas' heart went from silent to as loud as a marching band at a street parade, the ones that had the big ass drums that rattled you for a full twenty seconds before you got used to their volume. He braced himself against the wall, eyes closed.   
  
"You're," John hesitated. "You're not that serious, right?"   
  
Alex said something Thomas couldn't hear, whispered voice muffled in the dry wall.   
  
"What do you mean you don't know? How could you not know about something like that?" John yelled, and Thomas wanted to storm out. Alex didn't like loud noises that didn't directly come from his own mouth, and the volume John was talking at was loud enough to give him a heart attack.   
  
"I don't know, okay! Marriage isn't something we've talked about in terms of _plans_ ," Alex muttered. "I just know that I love him, and he loves me. He isn't _mad_ that my best friend is such an asshole to him. He gets upset about it, because he wants you to like him so bad, but you refuse to make a compromise."   
  
"A compromise? What kind of compromise could I make, Alex? You know exactly why I don't like him!"   
  
"Yeah, I know! I just thought that, as a grown man, you could suck it up for my fucking sake and _deal_ with the fact that I don't love you back, and that I never will!" Alex screamed, and the next thing Thomas heard was the door slam shut.   
  
Alex stumbled into the room a few minutes later, tears streaked down his face. He looked heartbroken, nose red, eyes puffy. Thomas didn't ask, didn't speak a word, let Alex fall into his arms, burrowed underneath the covers and laid there for the rest of the day.   
  
Thomas wanted to _kill_ John that day.   
  
"You have to wake up," John said, monotone, scrolling through his phone.   
  
Thomas groaned. "Shut the fuck up."   
  
"No. Eliza made me come here, when I would rather be anywhere else, because she forgot to bring her lock pick so I had to do it. You're not the only one who lost Alex, y'know. You're not the only one fucking grieving, you're just the only one who's allowed to because the rest of us have to spend time taking care of your dumb ass and making sure you don't kill yourself."   
  
"Then don't fucking take care of me!" Thomas called. "It's that simple!"   
  
"I loved Alex too. You have no right to lie here and and complain."   
  
Thomas couldn't do it, couldn't take one more second of John's shit in his life. He spent every single party, occasion, any event that they were together at after that conversation, avoiding John like the plague. What started as disappointment in himself for Alex's friend hating him morphed into pure rage at the fact that John thought he had any kind of control over Alex in the fucking first place.   
  
He bounded out of bed, grabbing John by the neck and pushing him down on the floor. Thomas was stronger and taller than him, it wasn't difficult to pin him. John tried, uselessly, to get Thomas off of him, but he just pressed down harder.   
  
"Actually, John, I have every single right to complain. Alex was, _is_ , the love of my life, and while you may have loved him, you didn't love him for who he was, you didn't respect him for one fucking choice he made. You never did. Being with me, living with me, were his decisions, but you acted like I forced it on him, like he _owed_ you something just because you loved him. A lot of people fucking loved him, John, but you were the only one who demanded after he gave you all he could."   
  
John scrabbled at Thomas' arm, heaving when he stood up. He rushed backwards on his hands until he hit the dresser, the mirror attached rattling against the wall. Thomas wiped his mouth, skin on fire, burning from the inside out.   
  
"Get the fuck out," Thomas spit, and John didn't argue. For the first time in his fucking life, he didn't say anything, crawled out of the room and told Eliza he had to go, Eliza following after.   
  
A sea of boxes in their otherwise empty living room, the rounded letters of cursive and sharp jagged edges of Alex's sharpie scrawling in all capital letters marking each one. Packing tape gleaming in the light, the blank slate of an apartment to make theirs surrounding them.     
  
"We're done! All the boxes are officially up here!" Alex announced, wiping sweat off of his forehead as he set another box labeled _kitchen_ , metal clanging as it settled on top of the mug collection.   
  
"I'm excited to live with you." Thomas took him by the waist, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Alex laughed and placed his hands on Thomas' chest, kissing his jaw.   
  
"I love you."   
  
They'd been together a year and a half, and Thomas was the one who brought up moving in together. It was three in the morning when he mentioned it, when neither of them could sleep, and he didn't think anything would come of it at the time.   
  
Now, as he stood in their apartment that they bought together, he realized just how wrong he was.   
  
It seemed effortless, how fluid the transition was moving in together. They spent most of their time in each other's apartments anyway, having one of their own was just like pushing the best aspects of those times together, and Thomas loved it. Loved waking up next to him, going to bed next to him, dropping Alex off at work before driving to his own job. He loved Alex, so desperately his heart ached when they were apart.   
  
The first time Alex refused to get out of bed was his birthday, wrapped the comforter of their bed and refused to come out. Thomas would try and help, but he'd just roll over, close his eyes and pretend he didn't hear what he said.   
  
"Please just leave. You didn't do anything, I promise, I just don't want to talk to anyone."   
  
Thomas nodded. "Okay. Happy birthday, Alexander." He kissed his forehead and walked out, clicking the door shut behind him.   
  
He never felt so helpless. He never worried more.   
  
Alex never got better after that day, stayed in bed more often. He skipped work, missed dates, only let Thomas in on his better days. He explained it, tears in his eyes, arms squeezing Thomas so tightly in fear he would try to escape that Thomas thought he would burst.   
  
The day he died, it took Thomas three hours to realize. He laid wrapped up on their bed, face covered in the dark curtain of his hair, and only when Thomas read the note folded up on their bed with his name on it did he see.   
  
It was the worst day of his life, and Thomas remembered it so vividly that thinking about it made his head hurt, made him panic. Now, he was the one stuck in bed, unable to get out, but there was no Alex to be there with him. There was no Alex at all.   
  
Thomas took in his empty apartment, stared at the mattress where the dip still hadn't flattened out, the shape of Alex still indented in the fetal position he laid in. He sighed, walked over to the balcony off of their bedroom, the same place James suggested he take sleeping pills only three days after they killed Alex.   
  
Then, in one fluid motion, Thomas lifted himself up over the railing, and plummeted six stories below him down to the pavement.   
  
The last thing he saw in his final moment on earth was a pair of eyes, as dark as the night sky, like ice to Thomas' skin.

**Author's Note:**

> this deadass is like four of my own other fics mashed together
> 
> tumblr: lol-phan-af!!


End file.
